


if i can't get the things i want (just give me what i need)

by skyekingsleigh



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Marriage, Mr and Mrs Smith AU, Spies, percabeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 11:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20891495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyekingsleigh/pseuds/skyekingsleigh
Summary: “Don’t even think about reaching for your gun,” she hisses lowly. “I’ll shoot before you can even blink.”-A Percabeth Mr. and Mrs. Smith au (that no one literally asked for)





	if i can't get the things i want (just give me what i need)

**Author's Note:**

> this is the result of me procrastinating my way through my exam week and is probably the longest one shot i have ever written to date, so please do comment and enjoy. // title from The Paper Kites’ On The Train Ride Home
> 
> -
> 
> unbeta'd

PERCY HAD COME HOME with a bounce on his step every single night for six years straight. It’s the one part of his day that he gives to himself, the one part he allows to make him feel, the one part he looks forward to. Like clockwork, he would park his car on the garage they rent across the street, greet the doorman, and take the stairs to their penthouse. He usually likes the extra exercise. And then he would knock because he’s too lazy to look for his keys that are buried deep inside his bag, and Annabeth would open the door with a grin and greet him with a kiss. Sometimes they end up staying there for ten whole minutes, lazily making out and whispering “how was your day’s” and “I miss you’s” against each other’s mouths until their ADHD starts acting up and they need to move inside. Annabeth sucks at cooking, but since she’s almost always home first she learns a few basic recipes to cook for the both of them (although they end up with take out more often than they’d like to admit). They get ready for bed together and talk about random shit married people do and cuddle till they fall asleep, or until Percy forgets the pang he gets in his chest each time he has to lie to her face when telling her about his day and whatever story he came up with on the walk from the garage to their door. Every single time, he wants to tell her everything, wants to bare his soul and all his secrets, but he knew that would be stupid. His clients don’t do well with outsiders knowing their business, and he’d put her in more danger that way. What’s a few (hundred) lies if that means he gets to keep his wife safe?

But this time it’s different. The spring in his step is replaced by slow, calculating steps, one hand gripping the strap of his bag tightly and another presses against the pistol he keeps in a holster on his back. He tries to ignore the way his whole body shudders, focusing instead on the red carpet in the hallway and each scruff of the soles of his leather shoes against them. _Compartmentalize_, he tells himself silently, encouragingly. _This is what you do best_. He stops just outside their door. _Compartmentalize_. He brings out his keys this time, slowly turning the lock and opening the door. It creaks loudly, making him wince at the sound.

“Perce, is that you?” There’s something in the way her words sounded so normal that made Percy grip his gun tighter. 

“Yeah,” he shuts his eyes tight, whole body shaking now, and takes the safety off. “Yeah, it’s me.”

-

THEY MEET IN MONTAUK, when Percy’s black German shepherd, Mrs. O’Leary decides to break from her leash and tackle Annabeth down the sand, face first. She denies his help when he holds out his hand to assist her, and insists that _no, she didn’t get a mouthful of sand, thank you_. Her grey eyes were startling and just a little bit enticing, and she says it’s not his fault but Percy invited her for coffee, anyway (even if he’s more of a tea person himself). They exchange numbers over their second cup upon finding out that they both lived in New York, and then they end up in Percy’s cabin long before either of them could really help it.

They get engaged three months later.

-

JASON SLAPS A PICTURE on his table with a sarcastic smile, followed by a giant cup of steaming chamomile. “Luke Castellan. Knows some pretty serious stuff that will be bad for the client’s business– an amateur, really, but heavily guarded. He’s being transported across the border by the FBI. 300k.”

Percy leans back on his leather chair, propping his feet up on the mahogany table. “Since when do you give me your work?”

“I’m not. I got the message from the client but they specifically said they want you to do it.”

The clock ticks steadily up the wall, reminding Percy of the two hours he has before dinner. Imagining the smell of freshly ordered cheese pizza was almost enough to get him to leave early (kissing his wife after a long day was a bonus, too). “What if I don’t want to? I just finished a pretty huge job. Annabeth might notice.”

Jason snorts. “Notice what? That her husband kills bad people for a living? Come on, man, it’s 300k!”

“It’s not like I need the money.”

“Yeah, but does your wife know that? Remember that trip to Greece that Annabeth wanted to go to on your anniversary last month but you lied and said it’s a little out of your budget but really you just had to kill Ares that weekend?”

Percy narrowed his eyes at his best friend. “Where are you going with this?”

“Take the job, Perce. Tell your wife you have a big project to go to, book a flight to Santorini and have the best vacation of your life.”

“She wants to go to Athens, not Santorini,” he corrects. “And again, it’s not like we need the money. We could go tomorrow if I wanted to.”

Jason rolls his eyes in exasperation. “You’re missing the point, here! How else would you explain to Annabeth how you got the money?” 

_I could think of a hundred reasons_, Percy thinks to himself. “I think you’re talking bullshit to get me to do the job,” he states instead, but he knew he was going to do it the second he picked up the picture to look at it anyway. “Give me all the details tomorrow morning. No sooner or later, alright?”

The blonde grins stupidly at him, saluting before turning around to leave his office.

-

PERCY IS NOT FOND OF deserts. He likes water; the angry sounds of waves, the cool sea breeze brushing against his face as he lies on the porch couch with Annabeth in their cabin in Montauk, or even the smell of chlorine in the community pool. He was a swimmer back in high school and college, had medals and all to prove it. It was one of the only real things that Annabeth knew about him.

Still, he has a job to do and money to collect, so he sucks it up. He loads the 4x4 he’s driving with a mini canon and a couple of rifles he felt could be of use. His pistol is still strapped securely on his lower back. He wears protective gear over his black, long sleeved shirt, and puts on dark aviators to protect his eyes from the sand. The sun shone harshly at him; he’s already sweating not more than two minutes in, but he tries to picture Greece with Annabeth and gets to work.

The past years he’s been in this line of work left him with a pretty healthy bank account for a ‘marine biologist.’ Don’t get him wrong; he’s studied that in university and when all else fails is still his fallback. Contrary to Jason’s belief, he doesn’t in fact plan to kill people for the rest of his life. Sure, he’s been taught to kill since he was a little kid. It’s all he ever knew. If his mom hadn’t saved up for his college fund, he might not even have another option, and he can recognize that he’s lucky enough that he does. Still, he’s learned how to shoot at twelve years old. That’s not something he’s ever going to be able to shake. But recent talks with Annabeth had never made the other option more probable.

Funnily enough, it happened when she noticed that they were running out of condoms.

They were brushing their teeth together like usual, ADHD causing Annabeth to rummage through the drawers under the sink for God knows what when she suddenly stills, then frowns. “We’re almost out of condoms.”

Percy chokes on his toothpaste and coughs for about two minutes straight. All he managed to say after was a very confused, “What?”

“There are only three left in the box,” she says still frowning. “We need to buy more.”

“Do we?” Of course he smirks at her and pulls her closer after that, and they proceed to consume two of those said condoms, and then it becomes a whole new level of urgent when it’s two days later and they’re naked in bed without one, because the both of them completely forgot about running out altogether. 

“I’ll pull out,” he recalls promising, member already rubbing at her entrance. Annabeth smacks him upside the head and honestly, he deserved it a little.

“That doesn’t always work, you idiot,” she chastises. “Besides, are we really ready for that responsibility?”

And, well, it’s actually funny that he’s thinking about that conversation while he’s driving in a desert preparing to kill someone, because if that doesn’t answer her question then he’s not sure if anything else will.

So screw him, he’s an assassin that wouldn’t want to bare a child into this fucked up world with his perfect wife while he’s one of the many idiots fucking things up. Can you really blame him?

He turns up the radio in the vehicle to distract himself, checking his phone to go over everything he needs to know about the job one last time before skidding to a stop at the rendezvous point. Percy could already hear the fed vans approaching from where he’s standing.

He’s setting up the mini canon when he gets shot down.

“Son of a bitch!” he curses, groaning at the sight of a silver bullet protruding from his bulletproof vest. From the distance he sees the first few vans blow up without his interference, but some of them turned around and managed to escape. Percy knew Luke Castellan was still in one of those, and he _hates_ failing his missions. He looks down once again to his chest and takes the bullet out with a growl. _That’s going to bruise_, he thinks, and then he thinks about how he’s going to explain that to Annabeth and the thought’s enough to get him to stand up and aim his little canon on another direction. “Now I’m pissed.”

He pulls the binoculars hanging from his neck to take a look at his shooter from his far left. All he sees are pale arms dusted with a thin coat of sand and a New York Yankees cap. It wasn’t hard to figure out the suspect is a girl. Still, she’s not the one who has to think of an excuse about how she got a bruise on her chest to Annabeth, so Percy feels less than guilty pulling the trigger and blowing her up.

“Bitch,” he mutters, watching the wooden shed where she had been standing be engulfed in smoke and flames, before sighing heavily and leaning against his car. “Now what?”

A roar of a motorcycle catches him off guard, and he doesn’t have enough time to aim another shot before the vehicle disappears from his line of sight completely. The bitch survived. _Fuck_. If there’s anything the clients hate more than failed jobs, it’s leaving behind live witnesses. _Ugh_. Now he has to add another name on his list, and he won’t even be getting cash for killing this one.

He’s approaching the blown up shed to scope a few information about his new target when something silver caught his eye. Lying on top of charred debris was a laptop. The screen had been shattered completely, and the thing was burned black everywhere, but¬–he picks up the object just to be certain, and sure enough, it was still intact. And Percy knew just the right person to bring it to.

-

PERCY WORKS BEST ALONE, but that didn’t mean he doesn’t have personal contacts for doing things he’s a little under qualified to do, like say, getting a name and address from a blown up laptop he picked up from a desert. This is what he needs Leo Valdez for. The kid’s only nineteen and is already the second smartest (Annabeth remains the first) person he knows. 

“I figured you’d call me sooner or later,” Leo greeted him with a wide grin. His curly hair looked longer than the last time Percy’s seen him, now almost covering his eyes. He flips it annoyingly every ten seconds. “How’s the missus?”

Percy slams the burnt gadget down the table before crossing his arms in front of his chest. The kid started inspecting immediately. “Can still kick your ass in that lame math app you have if that’s what you were asking.”

Leo looks up from where his greasy hands had been fiddling with the laptop with a teasing smirk on his face. “Still hot?”

Percy narrows his eyes before slamming both hands on the desk, with his loaded gun this time. “What was that, kid?”

“Ugh, you’re no fun, Percy!” He whines, reminding Percy how young he actually is. “And will you please quit calling me ‘kid’? I’m only eight years younger than you, you know.”

He grins back this time. “Sure, kid.”

Leo only glares at him, focusing back on his work. Percy met Leo two years ago on a random mission in Boston. He was being held hostage by a man Percy was tasked to kill, and had disarmed a bomb that was sure to kill the both of them before it detonated. Percy helped him escape for saving his life with the exception of Leo being there whenever Percy needed a tech guy. The kid agreed almost immediately, but not before Percy bought him pizza and soda for his troubles. He helped Leo settle into an apartment in the city at his beck and call and introduced him to his wife as an intern, and since then Percy had never seen the kid without grease smeared in his hands. It’s part of his charm. 

He looks at the minor changes in the room since the last time he’s been there, trying to distract himself from becoming bored. You can’t blame him. He’s ADHD, after all. Leo’s ‘home office’ still looked partially the same, save from the new blueprints and posters plastered on his bulletin board. His signature tool belt was strewn haphazardly on his desk instead of around his waist, zipper open and various screwdrivers and whatnot spilling out messily on the table. It was nothing Percy hadn’t seen before. “So, can you give me a name?” He asks after a few minutes of silence.

Leo hummed, examining the broken pieces of metal once more before leaning back on his chair. “Not sure about a name, but…” He extracts a small chip from inside, holding it up for Percy to see. “This gets you an address, if that helps.”  
“So what is it?” He asks again impatiently. His feet had started tapping a random beat two minutes ago, and more time waiting would get him to maybe want to implode. Percy never had been a patient man. However, the kid’s next words made his whole body freeze.

“Number 1208 Olympian Corp., Manhattan, New York.” Leo announces but frowned soon after. “Huh, that’s weird. Isn’t that where Annab–“

“I need to go,” Percy suddenly says, and before Leo could even think of a reply, he’s already running out the door.

-

IF YOU WOULD HAVE TOLD PERCY that he would come home someday with his hand on a loaded gun ready to aim it at his wife, he would have shot you himself. Alas, when he confirms to her that he’s home, it takes him a few seconds to even consider the thought of turning the safety back off and tucking his gun back to its holster. He had to go about this smartly– smarter than what he had been for the past six years.

Thinking of what he just found out made him want to take out his gun again, only this time to point it at his own head instead. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have fallen so deeply, so painfully, for a fake? And to think he was considering quitting his job and having children with her. Fuck.

He must have been standing by the doorway too long, because Annabeth came walking towards him with a small frown. “You okay? The pizza’s already here.”

If it were any other day, Percy would have grabbed her by the arms and kiss the frown off her face. Hell, if it had been even three hours ago–before he’d called almost all of his connections to inquire for the truth¬–he would have hugged her close to him and enjoyed her warmth against his chest. If he had known that last night would be the last he’d see her as _his Annabeth_ and not some stranger trying to play tricks on him, he wouldn’t have gotten up in the morning to do his fucking job. He would have rather stayed blissfully ignorant. He wouldn’t have cared if she killed him in his sleep, just as long as she stayed as Annabeth in his eyes, the girl who made him fall in love over coffee in Montauk, the woman that made him want to become a better man, _his wife_. The fact that Percy would rather not have found out the truth at all and have her kill him without him seeing it coming was enough to make him swallow a lump in his throat. 

“Sorry,” he rasped out. Now that he could look at her and see her for what she really is, Percy could see a different set to her shoulders that wasn’t there whenever she greeted him by the door before. Her eyes were distant and steeled yet calm instead of the usual comforting grey, like the sky before a storm. He fought hard not to let his act slip. As far as Percy’s concerned, Annabeth doesn’t have a clue that he knows. That’s an advantage he’d have no trouble collecting. “I spaced out a bit there. Pizza?”

She stares at him calculatingly, but only for a few moments before smiling again and heading towards their dining table. “I ordered your favorite.”

The plain cheese pizza really did look appetizing, but given the situation, he can’t exactly take any risks. He doesn’t want to get poisoned or some other fucked up shit. He won’t go down without a fight. She’s already tricked him and made him a fool for six whole years. He’s not letting her win. Not this time. 

Annabeth sits at the opposite end of the table instead of at his side like she usually does, as if she was waiting for his next move. Percy pushes the plate (one of her favorites) of pizza away. They exchange one look, and then there’s something that clicks in Annabeth’s eyes before they turned even colder. Now there’s no denying it. They both knew.  
Annabeth reaches for the box in the middle of the table, making him flinch stupidly. It turns out he wasn’t mistaken, though, because when her hands settle back down to the table, there’s a shiny, black gun on her hand.

It takes all of Percy not to do something stupid like, say, burst into tears in front of her, because this, _this_ is all the confirmation he needs. The truth was even if there was no denying the things he found out about Annabeth today, there’s still this stupid, foolish part of him that had hoped otherwise. He didn’t know how he allowed himself to do it, but the part of him that’s still hopelessly in love with his wife has been begging and praying to every God he knew by name for everything to be just a fucked up coincidence, or better yet, a horrible dream. It’s also unfair how even with the threat of a gun to his face, Percy still finds Annabeth and the way she’s studying him with steeled eyes beautiful. Yes. He’s fucked up.

He takes out his pistol and mimics the way she placed hers on the table. He hopes she can’t see his hands shake harshly at the confrontation. He hopes she can’t see the pain he’s trying to mask behind in his eyes. 

It was silent for the few seconds they study each other, and Percy’s the one to break it. “Are we really going to do this?”

Annabeth takes her safety off.

-

THE PATHWAY TO JASON’S HOUSE is a familiar route. Percy can’t count the number of times he’s walked here before, can’t recall how many nights he came knocking at the same door for the past twelve years he’s known Jason. This time, though, there’s a franticness that wasn’t there before. He hears it himself in the way he pounds on the brown-painted wood, sees it in the way his clenched fists shook with the force and the revelation that he received over the past six hours.  
It was as if Jason could sense it, too, because when he opens his door his blue eyes are cold the same way it is whenever he’s about to shoot someone’s head, his muscles and jaw are tensed and one of his hands are settled on the holster hidden underneath his shirt. He visibly relaxes at the sight of Percy, but the confusion mixed with slight irritation is still present on his face. “Perce? What are you doing he–_woah_, what the fuck happened to you, man?”

It was only a few hours ago that he had ranted to the blonde about his failed mission on his drive home and now he shows up at his house all wet with both water and blood and probably bruised in some other places, too, so Percy couldn’t really blame his friend for being perplexed. “Mind if I come in?”

There’s a slight limp to his steps, but he managed to make it inside Jason’s house without more problems. His best friend led him straight to the kitchen and immediately took out a pack of frozen peas, although Percy didn’t really know where he was going to put it because he’s pretty sure his whole body needs it. Still, he takes the pack from Jason’s extended hand and plops down on the first chair he sees, trying not to wince as he presses the bag against his slightly crooked and definitely broken nose. 

“Will you tell me what the fuck happened?” Jason frowns at him, concern written in his face. 

Against himself, Percy lets out a chuckle that rattles his bones, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice when he tells him, “Annabeth packs a good punch.”

Surprise flitted across Jason’s face. “You’re telling me your _wife_ did this to you?”

Percy didn’t bother to hide his wince, this time, looking up at the ceiling to try and stop his tears from coming out and embarrassing the shit out of him. “Can you hand me a plate? Preferably white, preferably ceramic.”  
“You’re so weird, Perce,” he says but pulled open his cupboard to give him one anyway. “How many do you need? Or just one?”

Percy pauses for a moment. “Six.”

Once all six, perfectly white and spotless plates are stacked on the table in front of him, Percy reaches out to hold one. “Annabeth likes plates,” he says as he inspects the thing closer, and _then_ he smashed it to the ground. 

“What the fuck!” Jason yells, jumping away from the broken pieces of glass now scattered around his kitchen floor.

“How could I have been so _stupid_?” Percy grounds out. “It was all a lie, Jace._ Everything_. She’s been playing me for six fucking years and I fell for everything!” He throws another plate to the floor and revels in hearing it shatter. 

“Dude, tell me what the fuck is happening because I am honestly so confused right now. Why are you breaking my plates?”

Percy smashes another plate before turning to look at him. He knew his eyes must have looked crazy and wild, knew he looked even worse than when he initially came in. He ignores the sting in his eyes and clenches his jaw. “Annabeth is…” he shuts his eyes to control himself. “She’s Athena Greco’s daughter, Jason. And she’s a spy.”

“Oh.”

He chuckles bitterly. “Yeah, _oh_. She’s been tricking me for six whole years. Fuck!” Another plate shatters on the floor.

“Hey, get ahold of yourself,” Jason tells him with a stern voice. “You aren’t going to let her win. You aren’t going to let Athena do this to you or your _mom_ all over again. You’re going to find the bitch, and you’re going to kill her, and you’re going to forget about the past six years and forget about her and find a new, real wife after.” He pauses. “And then you’re buying me a whole new set of plates. Alright?”

Percy nods before announcing, “I need a drink.”

“Uh, no you don’t,” Jason counters back, already leading him away from the mess he made in the kitchen and into the living room. He motions Percy to stay where he is and ran upstairs. When he comes back, there’s a spare blanket in his hands that he shoves to Percy’s chest. “You can crash in my couch. You aren’t going to get drunk. You need your head clear for this. And then, tomorrow, you’re going to kill Annabeth Jack–uh, _Chase_. Sorry.”

Percy gives him a tired look.

Jason sighs, probably finally feeling pity for his best friend. “What are you going to do, Perce?”

“Don’t know,” Percy answers stiffly, honestly.

The blonde purses his lips in contempt. “Do you want me to kill her? I could do it so you wouldn’t have to.”

Percy only glares at him. 

“What?” Jason says defensively. “She tricked you, man. Your whole marriage is a lie.”

“Fuck off, Jason.”

“You know what you gotta do,” He insists.

“I know,” Percy agrees half-heartedly. “Just fuck off. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Jason turns to walk off before pausing at the bottom of the stairs. “I know you really love her.”

Percy doesn’t reply.

Jason sighs again. “This sucks.”

This time, he cracks a smile at his best friend’s words. “I know.”

Percy doesn’t allow himself to shed tears, not until Jason’s back in his room, not until he’s completely alone. And then he _cries_.

_You don’t love her. You don’t love her._

-

PERCY’S FATHER IS a good man, or at least he used to be. His mom never failed to tell him that, despite the weekends he spends away with his dad and coming back with different bruises and sore muscles. He was twelve years old when Poseidon showed up and decided he wanted to take his son under his wing. Sally never protested, just told him good luck and that she loves him. His mom could do no wrong in his eyes, and if she thought that being with his dad every weekend would be a good thing, then it really must be. So Percy, despite having to live 12 whole years of his existence trying to convince himself that he doesn’t need a father in his life, packs a backpack every Friday after school before getting in whatever car and whoever driver his father arranged to pick him up.

The first Friday night he spends away, Poseidon gives him his first gun.

His dad never laid a finger on him, but he introduced Percy to things 12-year-old kids never should have seen or even _known_ about. He gets him to train for all kinds of defense classes, makes use of his ADHD, gives him strategy lessons and makes Jason his ‘play mate’. Percy loved his dad, in the end, even if he did cause Percy to enter the line of work he has now. When Poseidon gets killed by his rival–by _Athena Greco_– when Percy was sixteen, he was in too deep in the business to ever quit. He goes to college, still, and finishes a degree to please his mom, but instead of waiting tables or working at the university café, Percy killed. 

-

HE BOUGHT THE RING on a whim. He was only twenty-one and still had four months to go in college, and he’s completely head over heels in love with a girl he met less than three months ago, and he’d bought a white gold diamond engagement ring on a whim. That says a lot about Percy than he’d like to admit. 

Annabeth was coming over that night, and he could not stop fidgeting for the life of him. Sure, give him a name and a picture and he’ll have no problem blowing their face off, but get him to propose to the woman he loves and he physically trembles. He’s pathetic, really, so much than when he tells Jason his plans, the blonde hadn’t even thought he was being serious. His mom took the news more seriously and delightfully, but she’s _Sally_ and she loves Annabeth so really Percy shouldn’t have expected anything less from her. 

When Annabeth knocked on his door, he tripped on the way over and honestly? He should have taken that as a bad omen. But she kisses him before he could even take a good look at her and god, he’s so in love with Annabeth that it hurts his chest a little. He didn’t even think it was possible to fall for someone in such a short time, but Annabeth was perfect and they complement each other so well that Percy just knew he was bound to spend the rest of his life with her. 

“You’re tense,” He remembered her telling him, hands dropping from the sides of his face down to his shoulders to squeeze. They walk backwards till they hit the couch and then she’s straddling him, but there was nothing even remotely sexual about it, just intimacy and domestication and pure love. 

“College is stressing me out,” he tells her because it’s the truth, but he doesn’t bother telling her that it’s mostly because of the ring hiding in his front pocket because that would be stupid. “Missed you.”

Annabeth huffs a laugh and drops a kiss on his eyelid. “You saw me yesterday.”

“Yeah, for, like, twenty minutes.” He retorts with a frown, hugging her tighter to his chest. “Missed you,” he repeats more pressingly.

Annabeth sighs like he’s being difficult, but there’s a smile tugging at the ends of her lips and Percy knows he won. “I missed you too, you dork.”

And she’s looking at him with such fondness and love in her eyes and really, you can’t blame his mouth for blabbering without his consent when she’s looking at him like _that_. “Marry me.”

“What?”

“Uh,” Percy gapes, shocked with himself and his traitorous mouth before gulping harshly. “Marry me…? I mean, I know it’s too fast because we literally just met like three months ago but I love you so much already and I know we’re young but it would really be nice to get to call you my wife and wake up with you everyday and kiss you goodnight and all that shit.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “All that shit?”

“Uh, no, obviously it’s not shit, like, _shit_, you know? But, uh…” Percy wants to smack himself. He wants to disappear and forget that the whole night even happened, or that he isn’t palming his pocket for the ring right now. “Please say something.”

“It _is_ too fast,” Annabeth agrees and Percy was sure he physically deflated, a little. “But I love you too. And this could be, like, a long engagement, right? Because I want to finish my degree and…Percy?”

But he’s already grinning stupidly big at her, and his eyes are misting a little, but he’s so happy that it doesn’t even bother him. “Is that a yes?”

“You’re such a Seaweed Brain.” 

And then Annabeth kisses him really deeply, whispering a quiet ‘yes’ against his lips, and, “Oh shit, I bought a ring!”

-

PERCY DID’T BOTHER GOING back home– if Annabeth could still call their apartment that. She had to give it to him; he was wise enough not to come back, probably knowing how pointless it would have been anyway now with Annabeth knowing who he was. Still, she can’t help the sting in her chest when she came back together with her mother’s workers to sweep his things. They found his secret stash of weapons and cash easy enough, but the problem lies when they went inside their bedroom. 

Annabeth could recall the moment she found out about him. She was covered in dust and little cuts, her clothes torn with the blast _he_ shot her and her heart not believing her eyes as she reviewed the tape from the camera they had set up in the desert. He was standing with his back to the camera, but Annabeth would recognize his stance everywhere, would know it was _him_ even if he had been wearing a whole body suit that concealed him from her eyes. And then there it was–a mere millisecond of a turn, but enough for the lens to capture his side, enough to see the familiar slope of his nose and the scrunch in his dark eyebrows, enough to know that it was truly him. Annabeth felt like she would collapse. In fact, she’s still not entirely sure she wouldn’t, even after the bloody and painful confrontation and even after pulling their guns out and pointing it at each other. 

“It’s Percy,” she declared, surprised by the sturdiness of her own voice and how she had been able to contain her emotions in front of her co-workers, in front of people who knew her husband and who knew how fucked up the situation turned out to be. “It’s my husband.”

Now they raided their bedroom, pulling the beddings from where they’re tucked neatly into the mattress and tossing clothes out the drawers of their closet. They took every picture, every gift, every memory until almost all traces of their marriage disappeared from the space they once called home. 

Annabeth tried not to flinch when they wordlessly tore the mattress in half, tried to suppress her blush when they went through the box of condoms in the bathroom and their underwear drawing. But when she hears the sound of glass shattering on the floor and was met with the sight of their ruined wedding photo, her sharp glare was inevitable. 

“Now that’s just cruel,” one of the women on the team, Piper, says to the culprit, who merely shrugs and proceeds to the next room. 

The next room was even worse. 

The once blank walls were freshly painted in a satin coat of mint green; a small, single bed in the middle still unwrapped from its plastic covering. Immediately upon entering, Piper turned towards her with a frown and just a tiny amount of panic mixed with worry on her face. “Annebeth, you aren’t…?”

“I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you were asking,” she scoffs in reply, but her fists are clenched to her sides tightly to keep herself together. “We were just…starting to talk about taking that next step.”

“Annabeth–“

“I think we’re done here,” she announces loudly, making sure every person in the apartment heard. “We’ve gotten everything we need. Let’s go.”

They knew better than to question her.

-

WHEN ANNABETH TOLD HER mom that she’s getting married, Athena only huffed a short laugh at her and told her that she’s already old enough to make that decision for herself. She never once asked about Percy, or asked to meet the man who made her cold-hearted daughter fall in love. She wasn’t interested, so long as Annabeth still did her job. So when Percy did ask about her parents, she only told him about her detached father from California, and made up a vague story about her mother’s passing. As far as Annabeth’s concerned, her only real mother had been Sally Jackson–but she’s not exactly a good option right now. 

Still, once they were done sweeping their place for whatever things Percy had been hiding, Annabeth found herself in front of Sally’s door, all the emotions she’s been trying to keep to herself threatening to come out. And when Sally opens the door and looks at her with only motherly concern and love, Annabeth lets herself collapse in the older woman’s arms, sobs wracking through her body.

“What’d he do?” Sally asks immediately, guiding Annabeth towards the couch all the while not breaking her grip on her. 

“Nothing,” she lies, but her voice comes out broken and hoarse. All the pain and anger and confusion and betrayal come rushing towards her all at once, finally letting everything sink in. Six whole years, and it was all a lie. 

Sally gives her a disapproving look that lets her know she sees right through her lie.

“Nothing that I can tell you now, anyway,” Annabeth reassures her. “I just…I guess I just needed a _mom_, you know?”

“Oh, sweetie,” Sally sighs, tightening her hold around her. “You know I’ll always be here for you. You are my daughter now, whether you like it or not.”

Her words make Annabeth cry even harder, but she tries to stay quiet before Estelle hears her. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I just…”

“Hey,” they pull back, Sally scanning her face for a second before pursing her lips in concern. “Are you two going to be okay?”

This time Annabeth chose to be honest, though she could tell her mother-in-law wouldn’t like her answer. “I don’t know.”

-

PERCY’S STUPID ENOUGH to still love Annabeth (he’s trying not to, okay?), but if she lays one finger on his mom, just _one_, then that will be the final straw. He’s pretty sure he’s never felt concern like this before, and it started when Sally called him randomly in the afternoon. He knew it was usually Estelle’s naptime, and his mom never called him at this hour, but everything made sense when he picked up his phone.

“Would you mind telling me why Annabeth just came here a crying mess?” Sally opened, and Percy was sure every cell in his body froze. “She wouldn’t tell me anything, could barely stop crying, but I knew something must have gone on between the two of you. This is _Annabeth_. The girl never cries unless it’s something serious, and you’re usually the only person important enough for her to come up to me like that. She told me she needed a , Perce. What the hell happened?”

He could only response with a quick “I have to go,” before hanging up.

-

EACH HEAVY STEP HE takes seems to rattle his bones, but Percy proceeded anyway. His grip on his gun only gets tighter the closer he got to their door, and for once Percy is thankful that they don’t share the floor with other people for reasons other than that they could be as loud as they wanted to. The whole way back, he’s been reliving all the anger and hurt, telling himself he shouldn’t love her, telling himself how much of a threat she’s become not only to him but to his mother and to Paul and to Estelle. Jason’s voice keeps echoing in his head: _“You know what you gotta do.”_

He opens their front door, and he’s met with a gun pressing to his forehead. 

It’s not something he didn’t expect when he texted her to meet at home. In fact, he expected it so much that all that came from his mouth was, “Your safety’s on.”

Annabeth growls and clicks it off, and yes, Percy really had a death wish, because he pushed against the cold barrel of her gun to get inside, kicking the door close and blindly searching for the knob to lock it. Annabeth waits patiently, staring him down. Percy tries to ignore how cold her eyes had become.

“Don’t even think about reaching for your gun,” she hisses lowly. “I’ll shoot before you can even blink.”

And, well, Percy’s stupid but not _that_ stupid, so he just rolls his eyes before letting them roam around the freshly bared walls of their apartment. “I see you did some redecorating?”

“Never mind, I’ll just shoot you now to get this over with,” Annabeth quips, tightening her hold on her gun.

“You keep saying that but I don’t see your finger anywhere near the trigger, Wise Girl.” Percy could see his words rattle her, could see how she visibly flinched at the nickname. He’s always called her that before, but never with this much bitterness, never with this much malice. “Besides, I didn’t ask to meet just so I could kill you–well, not entirely anyway.”

Annabeth snarls at him. Percy’s not sure where he’s getting his tough bravado act, but he’s on a roll and it’s better than the other option (which basically is just to kneel and cry at her feet and ask her why _why_ why after everything after six whole years _why_ why didn’t she just kill him when she had all those years and all those nights with him _why_). 

“If you or your mom’s goons ever come near my mother again–“

“Oh, so that’s what this is about?” Annabeth smirks, cocking her head to the side. “That sucks. Sally’s my favorite Jackson, after all.”

Percy laughs bitterly. “It’s funny you said that considering _you_ used to be my favorite Jackson.”

“You can drop the act,” she narrows her eyes at him, but Percy sees the way her arm holding her weapon shook and he takes advantage of her momentary weakness, snapping the gun out of her hands and letting it slam against the floor. Annabeth recovers far too quickly, though, reeling back and punching him on the nose. Percy hears a sickening crack.

“Fuck!” he curses, hands flying to his nose where thankfully there isn’t blood. Still, he hasn’t healed from her punch from a few nights ago, so it hurt like a bitch. He gets his gun out from its holster. “I knew I should have never taught you how to punch.”

Annabeth throws her fist out for another one but Percy catches her this time. “You think you taught me?” she chuckles. “I’ve learned how to punch when I was seven. You taught me nothing.”

Somehow they ended up in the kitchen, Percy throwing a random plate at her head but Annabeth managing to duck down and avoid it.

“That was one of my favorites!” She growls, eyes deadly. “I can’t believe I fell for your act for six whole years!”

Annabeth shoots the first shot. Percy barely jumps out of the way. “My act? I can’t believe I let you trick me for six years!”

“Trick you?” Her voice shook. She pulled the trigger again, this time hitting a vase near Percy’s head. “You’re the one who proposed to me, making me believe that you actually loved me just so you could take your fucking revenge on my mother!”

This time the shot comes from Percy’s own gun, but his aim was way off, hitting the cabinet almost a feet away from Annabeth. “I had no idea your mother was even alive until I found out about you! What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Stop! Lying!” Annabeth emphasizes each word with a gunshot.

Percy scrambles for cover behind the counter, throwing a random kitchen knife he found on the floor blindly. “I’m not lying! You’re the one who tricked me into falling in love with you for God knows what reason!”

“Shut up!” She yells just as Percy stands up, gun raised and aimed at her. Annabeth was the same, and suddenly they were barely three feet apart, guns pointed at each other. Now that they’re face to face like this, things went oddly quiet, and Percy could see both their arms shaking in fatigue. He stared at her cold grey eyes but they’re lined with unshed tears. Percy knew his looked the same. “I can shoot faster.”

“Really? You wanna find out?” Percy retorts, but his voice fell flat on the supposed humor because _why is she crying_? Why does she look like she’s not enjoying every second leading up to her probably killing him and finishing the job? Why does she look as if this is as painful for her as it is for him? “Was this your mom’s plan all along? ‘Kill off Poseidon quickly but torture his son for years a little’?”

Annabeth breathes out roughly, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re _still_ lying.”

“Then what the hell am I lying about, _Annabeth_?” He says her name like it’s poison, and the both of them wince at the sound. He’s never done that before. He’s always said her name fondly, even when they first met. He’s always whispered her name into her ears in bed when they made love, always said her name lovingly even in his sleep. Now it’s tainted and it’s painful and it’s _poison_. “If that even is your name.”

“Just drop the act, Percy,” her voice sounds tired this time, like she’s giving up, but giving up what, exactly? Because as far as Percy knows, he was the one that’s been cheated on, he’s the one that should be tired. Not her. Never her. She did this to them, to him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growls out the last words, finger hovering on the trigger. She notices this and does the same. 

Annabeth sighs. “You’ve already been caught. What did you think would happen? You can just play me over and kill me once you’re done with me? You think that’s going to be your big revenge? Do you think my mom’s going to _care_? She’s barely a _mother_. She’s just the woman who gave birth to me and forced me to _kill_ when I was just _seven fucking years old_. Do you think that breaking my heart or even _killing_ me will make a difference? You’d just be doing me and her a favor.”

“Did she make you memorize that?” Percy hears himself chuckle but he could barely register the sound. “_God_, you’re good.”

They step even closer, guns still aimed. “I can’t believe I’ve ever loved you.”

“You don’t have to pretend for my sake, Annabeth,” Percy hisses. “You don’t have to pretend to ever having felt anything for me. I’m so fucking stupid. I asked you to marry me after three months of knowing you. You and your mom for sure had a laugh over that, huh?”  
Closer.

“I don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. Why are you talking as if this is _my_ fault?”

“And why are you acting like it’s _mine_?” Percy replies, jaw clenched tight.

Annabeth steps closer, grips her gun tighter the way she’s been doing every ten seconds that none of them shoots. “I don’t want to hear it anymore. Goodbye, Percy.” She puts her finger against the trigger. 

Percy mimics her movement. “What’s stupid is that _I still fucking love you_,” he chuckles, throat closing up. “Goodbye, Annabeth.”

A standstill.

And then something glints against the kitchen light, catching Percy’s eye. His chest feels heavy and tight and his eyes are definitely stinging–scratch that, he’s definitely crying and he’s shaking so hard, because it’s there in her finger still, a simple gold band right above a white gold diamond ring and they’re _right there_.

Percy drops his gun.

“What are you doing?” Annabeth asks sharply, eyes following his gun as it drops to the tiled floor with a loud clang. 

Percy smiles sadly. God, maybe he is stupid, because he’s thinking about how beautiful and strong she looks and how much he’s in love with her while she’s holding a gun to his face. He shakes his head but he’s trembling still. “I can’t do it.”

“Stop that!” Annabeth’s face screws up, and then her tears start falling rapidly but Percy’s not sure why. “Pick up your gun!”

Percy only stares at her, and he knows he looks broken and pathetic and this is exactly what Athena wants but he doesn’t care. He _loves_ Annabeth. He loves her with every fiber of his being, loves her more than he loves himself. And even if she might never have loved him the same way, she’s never let him feel otherwise until the truth spilled out, and he’s so stupid but he _loves_ her. 

“Pick up your gun, Percy!” She growls at him, kicking his gun closer to him. 

Percy shakes his head.

“Goddammit!” She sobs this time, eyes screwing shut and chest heaving. “Shoot me!”

“It’s okay, Wise Girl,” he says her nickname the way he usually does before and Annabeth deflates, her cries wracking her body. Percy does the same and it’s silent, so silent. “You win. You shoot.”

A beat, and then, “Goddammit, Percy!” Annabeth cries out before throwing her gun somewhere behind her and flinging herself at him, pushing their lips together in a messy kiss and then they’re moving, moving, moving until Percy’s back slams against a wall and he tugs at her lips with his teeth and she rakes her fingers down his chest and, “I hate you, I hate you.”

“I love you,” Percy tells her, voice breaking, and then they’re on the floor, and Annabeth’s still crying a little and Percy’s definitely still shaking. Now that they’re locked together like this, Percy could allow himself to think back on the words they exchanged, on the confusion and the betrayal on both sides and _god_, they’re so stupid.  
“How could we be so stupid?” Annabeth asks him hoarsely after as if she could read his earlier thoughts, tracing patterns on his bare chest and spelling out what might have been his last name–her last name as well, still. 

“I know.” Percy holds her tighter and closer to himself. “I thought that by keeping it from you, I’m somehow keeping you safe. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to just _tell_ you, you know? Because you deserve the truth. You deserve everything. But I guess I was just too scared that you would look at me differently, or that knowing would put you in more danger.”

Annabeth chuckles, leaving a soft kiss on his chest. “You took the words right out of my mouth. Those are almost exactly the same reasons why I didn’t tell you. And I’ve been meaning to slowly get away, you know? We’ve been talking about starting a family for real and I know I didn’t want to raise a kid this way.”

“Same,” he tells her lamely. “I’ve actually been saving up to start an actual marine biology firm or something.”

She frowns. “Did you actually study Marine Biology in college or–“

“Yes, I did,” Percy rolls his eyes. “And you? Do you actually have a degree in Architecture?”

“You were there during my graduation!” Annabeth slaps his chest playfully. 

Percy exhales. “God, we have to relearn everything now, don’t we? Our marriage–everything was built on lies.”

Annabeth sits up to look at him seriously. “Not everything.”

And Percy feels warm, okay, the kind that he only ever feels when he’s with her, so he kisses her really softly and replies, “Not everything.”


End file.
